


lingering memories, leave me be, i don't want you here

by sarcieles (orphan_account)



Category: X-Men Days of Future Past (2014), X-Men First Class (2011)
Genre: Angst, DEAL WITH IT, If you don't want it too bad it's what you're getting, Just angst, M/M, No Fluff, That's it, and Charles crying, and turtlenecks, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:36:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sarcieles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your generic-ass fic where Charles finds one of Erik's sweaters post-beach divorce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lingering memories, leave me be, i don't want you here

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wanted to start off from the beginning, make a clean slate. Make my way up to good, multi-chapter writing.

Charles waited four months before entering his room again. He could still feel the ghost of his lips on his, for the first time just outside that white door, and just like him, it wasn't gentle, but it wasn't brash. It wasn't demanding, but it wasn't innocent either. It was an embodiment of him, purely him, with his broad shoulders and turtlenecks and grins and grey-blue eyes. Charles wanted to have all of it, and while he had been taught not to be greedy, he wanted all of it right then and there. He slowed him down, made it less frenzied, more loving, in a way that Charles hadn't known he could do.

 

Charles waited four months before entering Erik's room.

 

Once he did he almost backed out. He was hit with that cinnamon-fire-brandy-thunderstorm smell that makes Charles' brain go every which way. Charles choked on it, reveled in it, knew that this alone would not make him break. No, he was stronger now. He may have been paralyzed, but that doesn't mean he was any weaker. Certainly Erik would've told him that. He wheeled himself over to where Erik had kept his clothes. It was a mahogany wardrobe, and there wasn't much in it. Just a leather jacket, a polo shirt, his grey workout suit that Charles had given him, his boots, his signature beige pants and... Charles reached out to grab the article of clothing that was unceremoniously tossed to the bottom of the wardrobe.

 

The soft material was deceptively soothing to his fingers, soft and worn from years of use and months of disuse. Charles brings it to his cheek, pressing it to his lips. He remembered this, when he fell asleep on Erik while recruiting Darwin all those months ago. It seemed like years. He hadn't fallen asleep on Erik's chest, no, he had fallen asleep on his shoulder, but Erik had taken his jacket off and placed it in his lap where he had directed Charles' head to lay.

 

He remembered hugging him after a nightmare, when he had been too tired to take off his day clothes before he had went to bed. The dream he had had was particularly vivid, more violent and bloody than what had actually happened. Charles remembered burying his nose into Erik's chest, listening to his heartbeat. In actuality the position he had been in would've been more comforting to him, but based off the lessening waves of rage and fear emanating from Erik's mind, Charles figured it had been the right thing to do.

 

Charles remembered pressing his body up against Erik's as they danced to an old record, one that he hadn't allowed Raven to touch, swaying around like a tree in the wind. Erik had captured Charles' lips in his, but it hadn't been the first time, and he had pushed him up against the wall without hurting him, took his hands and traced letters and words into his palms that Charles hadn't recognized. Still didn't recognize.

He remembered the night before Cuba, curled up against him, murmuring words about genetic mutation that made no sense to the other, but still listened.

 

He remembered Erik saying, 'I love you,' right before he went into Shaw's void. Charles had never had the chance to say it back.

 

He inhaled the smell with a shaky breath through his lungs. _He's gone. He's gone, and this stupid turtleneck is not... it's not..._

 

"It's not going to bring him back." he whispered. With a shuddering sob he dropped it to the ground and put his head in his hands, elbows on his unfeeling thighs. Heaving breaths racked his chest, no sound, just feeling, the worst kind of crying. The kind of crying he'd do after Cain would leave him bleeding on the floor. The kind of crying he'd been taught to do, to be silent, because no one wanted to hear a little boy cry. It was weakness, giving in. Charles was giving in. Soon it devolved to sobs, full of torn noise that reeked of heartbreak. Charles was sure Hank could hear them, they were loud, terrible, but he didn't care in the slightest.

 

He didn't care about anything anymore.

 

 

Charles considered going into Erik's room to retrieve the turtleneck before they went to break him out. Just to give him something back, even if he didn't deserve it. He hovered outside the door, almost raising his hand to knock. It had been eleven years and he still could hear Erik's breathing or the sound of pages turning. If he listened closely, he could hear his own. Charles turned away from the white door with the memories. He turned his head and walked down the hall, heeding Logan's call to get in the car.

 

He didn't touch the turtleneck for fifteen more years.

 


End file.
